One Journey
by PotterAnon
Summary: A series of shortish drabbles from various stages of Draco and Ginny’s relationship. Hey, what can I say? I’m in the mood for something soppysmutty… WARNING: SEX AND SWEARING SCENES.
1. Chapter 1

_This fic is a sort of sequel to my_ One Night _fic, but it's okay - as this series of soppy/smutty drabbles doesn't really have any sort of cohesive plot, they can suvive on their own. All you need to know is that Draco Malfoy fell rather hard for Ginny Weasley, and after a short but sexy affair, they're now an item._ One Journey _is a few short(ish) extracts from their relationship as it envolves._

_**Disclaimer: You know this bit off by heart, I'd imagine; I don't own anything, it's all JKR's (bless her cottons for this marvellous creation) - I'm clearly borrowing her wonderous works to play with them for a bit. She doesn't mind, in fact I've heard she like fan fiction...**_

_Right, I'll get on with it then, shall I?_

&

**One Morning**

"Ooof!"

Draco had just been woken, rather rudely, by all the air being forced out of his lungs as something heavy landed across his stomach. Still groggy from sleep, he sat up, in time to see Ginny roll off him and kneel in the bed covers, grinning.

"You all right, Draco?"

He blinked. Her red hair fell over one shoulder, into her naked lap. Actually, now he looked properly, he wondered how he could have missed the fact that all of her was naked. His chest did somersaults.

"Tremendous," he replied, honestly. "You?"

"Oh, I think tremendous just about covers it," she agreed, as he leant forwards and kissed her softly. He felt her smile against his mouth, before she pushed herself forwards and shoved him back into the mattress. Without thinking, Draco's hands went to her sides, savouring the soft skin against his palms. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders possessively.

"Mmmm-nuh-uh…" she murmured, pulling away. "No time. Work."

"Oh bugger."

"Yeah. Sorry." She extricated herself from the sheet and wandered off towards the bathroom.

"Not as sorry as I am," he called after her, and he heard her laugh from the shower stall. Looking over to the clock on the mantle piece, he sighed. Unfortunately she was right – as she often was – she really was running late. He clambered out of bed and tied his dressing gown around him, heading for the kitchen.

The tiles were supremely cold under his feet, but he was getting used to it now. He tapped the kettle with his wand, having retrieved it from under the sofa. What was it doing there? Oh yeah, he smirked. He'd dropped it there when he'd stepped through the door the night before and Ginny had been naked. On the sofa. With wine.

His neck flushed. She hadn't spent much time in clothes recently. Not that he was complaining.

Dropping three spoonfuls of sugar into Ginny's mug of tea – despite his better judgement – he lent on the counter. So involved was he in trying to recall every last detail of last night's… goings-on, that he barely noticed even when the kettle started whistling.

Wine hadn't been his only greeting. Oh no, she'd had chocolate cream liqueurs and massage oil as well. He'd told her that he didn't think he'd really worked hard enough to deserve it all, and she'd smirked. A delicious, filthy little smirk that he hadn't known she'd possessed.

"Yeah, I know," she'd purred. "But I have. So you better pour me another glass of red."

They really hadn't drunk much of the wine. Or eaten much chocolate. The massage oil was a big hit though – Draco could still feel her tough little hands sliding all over his lithe frame, the way it splashed coldly onto his back, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

He was amazed actually, at how relaxed Ginny was. She'd been relaxed for the entirety of their friendship, but somehow he'd imagined that that would disappear as soon as they'd become more serious. But no, and he'd been made to truly appreciate her easy-going attitude even further the previous night.

"You know," he'd ventured tentatively, while sprawled out face-down on the couch, Ginny straddling his legs, "I thought I'd be bored by now." He hadn't wanted it to come out like that at all. But he needn't have worried about her reaction. Ginny had just laughed.

"Yeah. I thought you would be as well. Too bad, eh?" He could hear her smiling. With a great deal of effort, given that his muscles were thoroughly knackered by her studious massage expertise, he twisted, shuffling so that he faced upwards.

"Not really," he said, taking one of her hands in his. "I'm glad I'm not. Though, how I could be when you arrange surprises like this?" He gestured towards the half-empty bottle of wine. "I'm not sure how I ever could be…"

He'd tugged on her hand so that her body fell against his. Ginny laughed, straightening as his arms came around her.

"Well, it is true. I am pretty interesting."

"Interesting doesn't do it justice," he replied. He opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Ginny seemed to sense that there was something he was dubious about saying aloud, and crushed her mouth to his.

"Drac? Aww, you made toast – excellent. I've got to go—" Ginny snatched up the toast and tapped her wand to her tea to cool it, before gulping it down as she crossed the room. It was gone by the time she got to the door, and she put the mug down on the mantle piece as she slung a bag over her shoulders. "See you later—"

"Gin? Aren't you forgetting something?"

Ginny let go of the door handle, spinning around the scour the flat with her eyes. "I don't think so, why?"

He strode across the room in five steps and pushed her up against the wall, conquering her mouth with his. He broke away and panted.

"Oh," she murmured, fighting to breath. "That."

"Yes, that."

&

What would he have said to her last night, if she hadn't kissed him? He didn't really know. He'd just felt that there was something he felt like saying, something hanging. In retrospect he was quite glad he hadn't said it. He didn't think opening that can of Flobberworms would have been a very bright idea. They'd only been dating properly for two weeks, after all. She might be laid back, but that was part of the problem. He wasn't about to scare her off by letting his mouth run away with him.

He'd never had this problem before. Normally other people fell for him before he fell for them, if he did at all. In fact, he was certain that he'd never felt quite this strongly about anyone before. He'd never felt like he cared whether or not somebody liked him back this much before, undoubtedly.

He wondered if liking her was the root of it. Sure, he liked her. Yes, she made him feel… different. Or different to how everyone else made him feel. But did he care about her, really? Was there a wish that should be happy, whether or not that plan involved him? He couldn't really say. Once thing was certain – he'd never been quite this confused by a relationship before, and it was very, very scary.

That was the thing about Ginevra Weasley. She could make him feel utterly reckless and happy at the same time as he was shitting himself with terror. He received a prime example of this one night, when they attended a gathering arranged by her co-workers at a bar in Diagon Alley. He'd sat the – more patiently than he ever could have done for anyone else in the world, including Pansy Parkinson – and listened to her talking animatedly to one of the people she worked with at her publishing house, getting steadily more irritated and bored. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, under the table he felt the instantly recognizable sensation of a small hand crawling down the inside of his leg.

He'd tried to see a sign of her actions in her face, but somehow she was managing to keep an entirely straight face, something he was finding it exceptionally difficult to do, as he felt her hand creeping back upwards again, to brush rather obviously against the taught fabric of his trousers under his belt.

Draco felt his stomach muscles clench, partly with fear at discovery and partly with arousal. He could feel the familiar hot tingle sinking into place easily, as if it was second nature that whenever she touched him, even lightly, his hair should stand on end. He breathed out.

Ginny's fingers were trailing down her neck and toying with her necklace. He could feel his eyes locked there, but was powerless to move them: her hand had begun trailing intricate patterns along the length of swollen flesh shrouded by his trousers and there was an ache between his legs where the muscles kept flinching. He tucked his chair further under the table, anxiousness making his neck burn.

Ginny, at last, glanced his way. The look of pure glee on her face couldn't really be misinterpreted. He shot her a look that he'd hoped would come somewhere between, 'Stop that now', and 'shit, you're amazing,' but he expected it just looked hungry: all he could think about was her hand, and the erection she was encouraging under the table. He coughed.

Her face broke into a sly grin. "You all right, Draco?"

He nodded. "Fine, th-thank you…"

He'd gasped, because Ginny had just slid her hand underneath his waist band and engulfed his shaft with her fingers. He hadn't really thought about the possibility that she would have taken it this far. Not that he'd had time to think it through at all, but still, there were limits…

But apparently not where Ginny was concerned.

"Are you sure you're all right, Mr. Malfoy?" one of the waiters serving their group had asked. At that moment he'd been concentrating too hard to attempt speech: Ginny had been rubbing gently but insistently for the past ten minutes – possibly more, it seemed like it'd been ages since her cool fingers had brushed along the velvety hardness – but the combination of awareness that they were outside, in public, in the middle of a group of people and the force with which Ginny normally effected him, was making him tremble. He was terrified that someone would notice, or realise what she was doing. But at the same time, he didn't want her to stop. Oh Merlin, don't let her stop…

He felt a sudden surge of heat, and realised that there was no way he could stop himself making an incredible mess unless he stopped her right now, that very second. The problem was that that was the very last thing he wanted her to do.

"Mr. Malfoy? Are you all right?"

He looked up, and there was a very concerned-looking waiter peering at him. Ginny's hand stopped moving. He panted, without really noticing it. His head felt foggy and warm.

"I'm sure he's fine," he heard Ginny say smoothly, smilingly. The waiter looked dubious, and he was forced to pull himself together. Now, though, there was an angry, niggling kind of hunger inside him, and his manhood was tingling maddeningly, every nerve alight. Ginny's hand slid away suddenly, to rest on his leg. He swallowed involuntarily and gasped at the same time, making a strangled choking noise.

"I'll take him to the bathroom, make sure he's not feeling ill. Maybe he's come down with something," Ginny told the waiter. As she stood up, carefully sliding between the bulge in his trousers and the waiter's curious gaze, the waiter asked concernedly whether it could be food poisoning.

"I don't think so," she smiled, still hovering in front of him, "looks like bit of a fever to me. He's looking a little over-heated." She led him away before the waiter could question her further.

As soon as she'd set foot inside the gentlemen's bathroom, she spun around and he walked straight into her small body. His mouth crashed down onto hers, as he rammed her backwards, pulling her waist hard into his. Her back collided with the sink unit, and he ground his hips into hers, feeling the heat that was filling his body ease a little with the new freedom.

She grunted in surprise, but the guttural sound did nothing to calm him. All he wanted to do was to get her pinned—

"Draco, are—?"

"Fine," he growled, his hands clamped to her upper arms, fingers digging in. Every time he ground his hips forwards into hers, a wave of blistering, primal need swept through him, and he wanted to feel it again. And again. And again.

Without considering really what he was doing, his hands slid down and lifted Ginny onto the counter top. She squealed, her laugh rippling through her chest into his. His fingers were fumbling numbly for the waist band of her underwear. He felt her, hot and damp against his hand as he realised – with genuinely worrying surge of molten delight that he thought might make him come right then – that she wasn't wearing any.

Flushed and eager, Draco swallowed as Ginny pulled his wand from his pocket and aimed it at the door. She cast what he presumed to be a locking spell – in a deliciously hoarse voice – and then shot a second spell at himself, which caused his trousers to fall, quite without any interference on his part, to the floor, bundling around his ankles with his underwear.

"Ginny," he whimpered. "Please…"

She just laughed – a full, fruity, dirty laugh, which made his stomach muscles clench. Then she hooked her leg over his shoulder, and yanked him forwards by the sides of his shirt.

It didn't take long for the prickling, swirling fervour to build up again, pooling behind his hip bones and coursing throughout his body, spreading to his fingertips and toes. His legs ached from driving himself forwards over and over again, but he was rewarded by the searing kiss that Ginny placed on his mouth.

It was over before he realised it was. He came somewhat swiftly, abruptly feeling the tension straining in his lower belly break and spill forwards, pouring out. Impulsively he jammed his hips into Ginny's, rutting into her, driving everything he had into her, crushing her up against the wooden door.

"Shit…" Ginny breathed, gently disentangling herself. Draco's chest was heaving, and he leant forwards to rest his forehead against hers, feeling moisture between them. As his head cleared, he considered the rather ungraceful position he'd got himself into: his trousers around his ankles, his leg slightly sticky, sweat inching up the back of his neck. Not mention Ginny's tangled locks, or the pink tint on her cheeks, or the way her shirt was clinging to every curve of her.

Yeah. Shit just about covered it.

&

_Read and Review please! As always, I could use a bit of encouragement. What d'you think, carry on?_


	2. Chapter 2

_Quick message for all my reviewers: Thank you so much. Especially Pyro – I really appreciate your kind words and encouragement. As I've not got any other way to thank you, I'm dedicating this chapter to all you guys._

_This is actually a two-part chapter. Just thought I'd give you a heads-up. (Though, let's be honest, the name, 'One Vow, _Part One_', probably would've given it away...)_

&

**One Vow – Part One**

There's something about a wedding that is unusual in the world. There is something about it that has the power to simultaneously seep warmly and lovingly into the hearts of one kind of person, sending them into a bubble of contented romanticism, and strike cold, terrifying panic into another's.

For a very long time, the latter had been Draco's reaction to an invitation to a wedding. Fear and trepidation would engulf him, and pleasant speech would desert him, leaving him with bitter jibes, a strong desire to get drunk or have sex, and a desperate wish to be any where else.

"Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley and Miss Hermione Jane Granger request the pleasure of our company in celebrating their wedding," Ginny announced one morning, turning the lilac invitation over in her fingers as she dropped the rest of the post onto the kitchen table, where Draco sat eating cereal.

"What, even mine?" Draco asked, frowning. Though Ronald Weasley had been made aware of his and Ginny's relationship, he'd never exactly condoned it, and definitely never encouraged it.

"Well it says 'and guest'," Ginny replied. "But they know perfectly well that we're dating. They know I'll bring you." A look of panic suddenly washed over her. "That's if you want to go…" she said quickly, tapping the invitation against her fingers, in an obvious attempt to seem nonchalant.

Internally, Draco laughed. So rarely was she flustered, that for some reason he felt like he should prolong it for as long a duration as possible. But that thought occupied his mind only for a second or two.

"I would," he said soothingly. "But I'm not certain they would even want me there. If fact I'm almost certain they wouldn't—"

"Why not? I know it's their day but it's not just their party. It's a chance to get together and celebrate everything we have and might not have had. Besides, you've proven your allegiance in so many ways since you were all at school, and I trust you. They really shouldn't mind…"

Draco knew he looked sceptical.

"If I make sure it's alright," she said timidly, "would you… do you want to..?"

He nodded. "Alright. A chance to face your _entire_ family, plus Harry Potter. How could I miss it?"

Ginny squealed, threw down the envelope and hugged him, knocking the wind out of him. "Blimey, you really care a lot about this…"

She released his neck and slipped into a chair, blushing. He eyed the pink tinge down her neck and felt his fingers itching to touch it and see if she was as warm as she looked.

"When you grow up in a family that large, all you want is to be and centre of attention, just once," she said wryly. "I'm not going to do anything," she added sharply. "It's Ron and Hermione's day, and he needs it as much as me. But I've always been the little sister. Just a child, really, no matter how old I was. It'd be nice to show them I can make my own decisions and run my own life."

Draco kissed her temple. "I'm not going to pretend I understand," he said softly. "I'm an only child, after all. But I _will_ come, if you want to me too."

Ginny beamed. It made his chest feel like it was expanding.

&

Ginny had returned inexplicably promptly from visiting Hermione the next day, and she'd been happy. Apparently her initial excitement had either worn off, or she'd tempered it as she normally her most potent emotions, so that when she told Draco that Hermione had meant it when she'd said _any_ guest, she was rational and breezy once more.

Draco had been on his way out of the door, heading back to Malfoy Manor and then his house in London, after five days solid sleeping at Ginny's flat. He'd had a rucksack slung over one shoulder and had his hand on the latch when Ginny had swept out of the fireplace in a swirl of green sparks.

"Oh, you're still here," she said, smiling.

"You're back early," he countered, dropping the bag down again. It'd been nearly a week – the Manor could wait a bit longer. "I was going to get a fresh few sets of clothes and check on the Manor, but I've got time. How'd it go?"

"She said it'd be fine."

"Really?"

Ginny grinned. "Well, actually her exact words were, 'Merlin, Ginny, if I'm this happy then I think you can be too! There's nothing that could ruin it, so please, just bring the sod!'"

Draco's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Lovely."

"Isn't it? Anyway, I told her we'd be there, if you're still up for it." She busied herself with rummaging through her bag for something, but Draco already knew how much it mattered to her – her pretending to be offhand about it wasn't fooling anybody. He wrapped his arms round her, pressing his chest to her back. He was a head taller than her – she fit rather snugly to him.

"We'll be there," he said gently, into her hair. He felt her sigh quietly and try to hide it. He turned her around by the shoulders and kissed her tenderly on the mouth, savouring the taste of sugar that she always seemed to have around her.

"You know," he said lightly, looking up and peering around the flat. "I've been here almost a week now."

"Yeah, you have," she murmured, fiddling idly his shirt collar. "You're right, you better get some clean clothes—" she made to break away and let him go, but he pulled her back.

"You're missing the point," he smiled. "I mean, I don't really want to go home."

"Well I suppose you could just borrow my washing machine and wash them here," she frowned. "You won't get much variety without going home though—"

"My, my, Gin, you're being unusually dense today," he smirked. "I was sort of the thinking that I don't want to go back the Manor or back to the house – on a more permanent basis."

She blinked. "You what?"

He paused, watching her big brown eyes cocked in a frown. "I mean that I want to live here. Officially live here. Properly. I want us to live here, _together_."

Ginny's mouth opened slightly. "Oh." She glanced around. "Here?" she asked.

"Here."

"In my flat?"

"In your flat."

"In my small, dingy, cramped little flat five times further away from the centre of London than your big, roomy townhouse with three house elves?"

"No," he said. "In you're perfectly-proportioned, cosy, colourful little flat, out of the way of the bloody city centre and a hell of a lot more fun without three house-elves."

"Oh," she said again. Then she grinned. "Well, if that's what you want, how can I say no to someone who quite obviously recognises the design masterpiece that is my home?"

"You can't," he said, tilting his head to the side and grinning.

&

The wedding took place in the Weasley's garden, amongst delicate but richly scented honeysuckle and bright, star-shaped daylilies. It was late afternoon, and the sun was low and warm, and the whole garden was swept under a reverent haze of baking pollen and insect noise.

Ron and Hermione's ceremony lasted something that wasn't a long time, but was categorically definitely not a short time. It was beyond weird both to see Ron Weasley speak eloquently and strongly about how much he loved and revered Hermione Granger, and to see Ginny listening quite so intently to her brother. She never normally listened to her brother.

Draco was divided though. On the one hand, this side of her was something he hadn't seen before, and he wasn't certain how he felt about sentimental Ginny yet. On the other hand, he was also the most comfortable he'd ever been a wedding before, and he knew that that was simply because he had Ginny to hold his hand.

Actually, despite the fact that they sat side-by-side in the second row of chairs in the garden of the burrow, their hands were decidedly separate. It felt strange to Draco. He couldn't remember the last time they'd been out in public and hadn't held hands almost the entire time. He wondered if it was because they were around her family and she didn't want him to feel he had to. Or perhaps it was that she didn't want to, for fear of annoying her relatives. That, though, seemed unlike her – she never normally cared about what her family thought. Or at least she never appeared to. But perhaps she really did care, an awful lot, and—

Draco realised that he was over-analysing way too much, and that, in all honesty, there was really only one way to find out whether or not she'd mind. He slid his hand into hers and linked their fingers together.

She glanced up at him, smiled contentedly, and looked back to the front, shuffling nearer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. He tried to hold in the smile he could feel bubbling in his chest, but couldn't. Placing a kiss on the top of her head and looked up – to see Mr. Weasley watching him. He froze, but within a second her father had turned back to watch the ceremony, and she was none-the-wiser. Draco felt his heart thumping.

As the ceremony ended, he found himself being dragged over by Ginny towards the arch of red roses that appeared to have been grown, unsupported, across where the joining took place. His hand was abruptly released, so that Ginny could fling her arms around her brother's neck, then Hermione's, then around Potter's. As soon as she was finished, she captured his hand again, and all three stared at it, then at him, looking furious.

Draco shifted uncomfortably, panic welling in his stomach and making him think perhaps he was going to throw up.

"Oh, grow up, you three," Ginny said, jokingly. "I already told him you didn't mind."

Immediately their faces broke into three of the brightest grins Draco had ever seen. Hermione's goblin-made tiara was wonky from Ginny's ferocious hug, and Ron's ears were an unbelievable shade of magenta, but Potter was the one that really left him stunned. As the others nodded happily and moved off to speak to other guests, he bent down, kissed Ginny on the cheek, and then held out his hand.

Apprehensively, Draco shook it. That was when Harry pulled him into a rough hug, patted him heavily on the back, and said, "Good luck with her, Malfoy."

Upon release, Draco swayed slightly as Harry retreated, waving over his shoulder towards them. Draco looked at Ginny. She looked as shocked as he undoubtedly did.

"_That_ I was not expecting," she said slowly, clearly stunned. It took him a moment of nodding before he realised quite how happy the whole exchange had made him, and then suddenly he felt like he'd just drank three bottles of butterbeer. He grinned at Ginny, grabbed her around the waist, and swung her in an arch. His feet felt incredibly, impossibly light, and his head was no better, which was probably why he lost his footing and stumbled when he put her down, but still he was happier than he'd thought he ever could have been at this damn wedding.

"What was that for?" she laughed, grabbing onto his arms to keep his steady.

"I'm just glad I haven't been jinxed into pieces!" he said, hugging her tightly. She laughed into his ear. But after a moment, the sound trailed off.

"Ah. Unfortunately, Drac, there's still time…" Frowning, he lifted his head and turned, to see Mr. Weasley making a bee-line for them.

"Oh, bloody hell," he breathed, swallowing.

&

Draco found Ginny in an over-grown copse in one of the far corners of the Weasley's equally unkempt garden, where the rugged grass swathed the ground as it fell towards the crystal movement of a brook, hidden underneath willow trees. Light flittered half-heartedly through to fall over the dappled ground and make shifts of reflections off the water.

"You have an irritatingly romantic back garden," Draco said, by means of announcing his presence. Ginny spun around where she sat, looking unsure of whether to laugh or not.

"What did my dad say?" she asked, anxiously.

Draco dropped down next to her, taking her hand in both of his and staring at the ground.

"Basically he warned me off you," he said. "Quite violently."

"What did he say, though?"

Draco looked at her. She was peering at him through her hair, which fell in lazy waves down her back. Her blue-grey jumper was constructed so that it hung loosely around her, exposing most of her clear, freckled back, but was fastened behind her neck.

"He asked he what my intentions were. I told him that was a bit of a cliché, and he looked mildly annoyed."

"Oh, Draco, you didn't…" She looked so pained, so injured.

"Then he told me that he wasn't sure if he wanted someone from my ancestry, with my reputation and my history corrupting his only daughter. I said that whom I can and cannot corrupt is entirely my own affair. He didn't seem too pleased with that either. Not as much as when I told him you didn't really seem to mind being corrupted, though…"

She gave a small, rather sharp whine, and dropped his hand into the grass, burying her face in her fingers.

"That wasn't really that bad though. Not considering that after that he told me that if I was ever, ever to hurt you ever, then I should expect to be hunted down by the whole sorry mass of your family and hammered into the ground. I didn't really appreciate that, so I told him where to shove it. I told him the Malfoys have hurt whoever they pleased for centuries."

&


	3. Chapter 3

_Second part of my two-parter. I just had too many ideas to go with this scenario to fit into one averagely-lengthed chapter, so I thought this might be the best way to go. Really, REALLY sorry for such a momentous delay, but what with updating a couple of other stories, college, and a nasty bout of writer's block…_

_A/N – this entry is very… bit-by-bit. Bear with me – I just wasn't sure how else to do it. It felt like it needed the flashback approach, without having any actual flashbacks._

_As always, sorry about any misprints, grammatical or spelling errors._

**One Vow – Part Two**

&

He kept his eyes determinedly pinned to the ground, but he felt Ginny's eyes boring into him. He could feel her anger, feel the heat burning him.

"You said _what_, Malfoy?"

Her voice was so dangerous, so cripplingly controlled and so lilting, that he had to look up to see if the anger in her eyes would match it. It managed to surpass it, though, he found, by quite some distance.

"Then I told him," Draco said, with difficulty, watching fire smouldering wildly behind her hazel irises, "that I didn't appreciate him laying the history of my family before me like some kind of fence I had to jump before I had the right to approach his family. And that if ever there was an opportunity to change the past, to right some wrongs, then it's by giving the woman I love the dignity and respect that the Malfoys have never—"

"The woman you _what_?" Ginny gasped, her eyes widening.

Draco bit his lip. He had to, to keep from smiling.

Light dawned somewhere in the back of Ginny's eyes.

Draco only had time to register the look of sheer joy on her face before she flung herself around his neck, landing them both in the glass in a tangle of soft wool and limbs and black blazers and fiery hair and soft lips and crushed flowers.

Ginny's mouth met his several times, but the encounters were so randomly timed and impassioned that they all blurred into one, very blissful kind of tumble. Eventually she seemed to get a hold on herself, and pulled back to look at him. There was a completely different kind of fire in her eyes now – a mellow, contented kind of glimmer, like a fire that had settled down from a roaring blaze into an intensely hot glow.

"I love you, too," she breathed, looking like a bloody angel.

Draco let his head fall back and laughed until his chest hurt.

They stayed in the grove for a long time. Ginny curled up in his lap and gave his mouth more attention than he thought it'd had since Hogwarts, running her fingers through his hair, skimming under his collar, and slipping under his suit jacket to slide around his slim waist. In the end, it was Draco that realised that it was getting on a bit, or that someone might notice their absence.

He pulled back reluctantly, and looked around to see that the sun had almost completely sunk below the horizon line, and that the fairies and fireflies had come out, and were hovering dimly around the copse.

"I think we'd better head back," he whispered, cautious of breaking the fragile silence. They could hear music from the wedding party rolling over them from the house.

"Do we have to?" Ginny murmured, smiling even as she made to get up. Draco caught her wrist, tugging hard. She toppled over into the long grass with a shriek. He rolled on top of her, and looked at her, spread-eagled in the soft pasture.

"I can't believe," he said softly, "that I missed this." He leant down and kissed her, fingertips resting in her hair.

"You didn't miss anything," she replied. "I'm here, aren't I? I love you, don't I?"

"As much as I love you, hopefully," he replied. The words sounded strange to him. He'd never said them before.

She seemed to suspect as much, because she didn't linger on them. She merely beamed as he planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and hoisted her to her feet, then linked their fingers together as they walked back up the garden towards the lawn.

&

There was something awfully daunting about the phrase "making love". Especially if, like Draco, you'd never attempted it before.

Clearly, Draco had done what he was about to do before. Many times. With many different people, in many different places, and in many different positions. But somewhere along the line, there had been an utter lack of any thing which had ever come close to his idea of what making love would really be liked.

It turned out it was rather nice, in the end.

&

His fingers fumbled numbly with the clasp on Ginny's necklace. He could hear her chuckling, and was for some reason reminded of the first time he'd even done this. Hearing Pansy Parkinson laughing breathily into his ear as he tried to make out that he was a hell of a lot more in control than he actually was. A nervousness so complete that his stomach felt icy but his skin felt hot had spread through him, and all his muscles had become completely uncoordinated.

"I can't do it, Gin," he snapped, irritated.

Frowning slightly, Ginny turned around and peered at him.

"It's alright, Draco. What are you getting so annoyed for? It's only a necklace," she said kindly, unclipping the pendant and laying it on the bedside table.

Draco scowled.

He heard her laugh. He looked up, and her hazel eyes were on his, a small smile on her lips. His temporary anger softened as she peered through her eyelashes at him.

"I love you," he told her again. It seemed important that she should know.

"I know you do," she said, taking his hand. "What's the matter, Draco?"

He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, gazing out of the small, gauze-hung window towards an oak tree in the park across the road, and at the glistening rooftops coated in amber light from the setting sun.

Ginny sat next to him, in silence, not watching him. When the bright circle of golden light had sunk beneath the nearest rooftops and the room was suddenly cast in shadow, she got up, drew the curtains, and lay down with her head on his lap.

"I wish I could show you how much you mean to me," Draco said, eventually.

Ginny smiled. "You have already."

He shook his head. "No, I mean… physically."

She smirked, her delicate pink mouth opening. "You already have. Many times."

"Have I, though?" he said quickly. He looked down, his hand smoothing her faintly waved cinnamon hair off her face. "I want to worship you," he said, quietly, the words sticking in his throat.

"I wouldn't," she said in barely more than a whisper, her voice cutting smoothly through the warm cocoon in the room. "My ego is quite large enough as it is."

He laughed stupidly, but was happy to have something to ease the pressure he was feeling in his stomach.

&

Draco sat cross-legged with Ginny in his lap, tracing patterns softly around her neck. He'd just found a new freckle he hadn't known she had when she giggled.

"That tickled," she squirmed.

"Sorry," he replied quickly.

"I never said I minded it tickling," she purred, looking at him over her shoulder.

&

It started raining. Liquid streamed down the window panes, licking its way around the frames. There was a roaring outside, punctuated by the sound of water dribbling off the window ledges and guttering, like the noise of a car moving over gravel very slowly, the clicking and popping.

Ginny was cradled against the massive pillows at the head of the bed, pinned gently beneath Draco's lean body as he littered her neck and face with kisses. His mouth roamed, explored, searching and investigating every inch of her dappled skin, fingers drifting from her neck to her sides, and back again, melting her.

There was something beyond their normal communication tonight, something mutual and devout. Everything seemed to pass in a haze of warmth and comfort, all cuddles and softness and curves. All lips and mouths, all fingers and palms.

Ginny brought her mouth from Draco's and nudged his hands towards the hem of her jumper, looking him briefly in the eye. His fingers slid up underneath the feathery lightness of her jumper to sweep up her sides, and her jumper fluttered over her head and out of her sight, leaving her to feel Draco's cotton shirt landing atop her.

His attention returned to scattering kisses across her pale torso, until she felt so strongly that she should feel Draco's smooth, flawless skin against hers that she dropped her hands from where they had been looping mindlessly through his blonde hair and began fumbling with his buttons. He tried to coax her away, but she resisted, pushing his shirt back off his shoulders and allowing her palms to drift across his exposed skin and pull him by the shoulders back down onto her, so that his stomach, and its expanse of warm, fierce skin, could melt against her own.

As much of a cliché as it was, Ginny felt as though everything were moving in slow motion. Draco was meticulous. More so than she could ever recall him being before. And every single time he touched her, a rather powerful surge of eager heat flooded her.

&

The covers were twisted and twined around their waists; Draco's back shone with a light sweat. The rain was still falling hard outside the window, rattling rooftops and sheds, and churning the mud in the flowerbeds of the small yard below. Wrapped in a cocoon of fervent affection, Draco rested his head against Ginny's damp shoulder, waiting for his breathing to settle.

Her chest rose and fell beneath him, and for a moment he feared he might be crushing her, so much so that he made to move, but she tightened her fingers on his waist and he stilled, looking at her as her chest rose and fell. A scarlet blush had crept up her neck and coloured her cheeks, masking her freckles.

Ginny lifted her hand to cup his cheek. He nuzzled into it, kissing her palm, some part of his exhaustion making everything seem slightly like he was delirious. He didn't want to move. He wanted to stay there, looking down, watching her drifting off, seeing the energy leaving her arms so that they flopped to the sides of head and she lay, sprawled beneath him.

Her eyes opened again, so find him staring at her.

"You look good like this," she murmured.

"Like what?"

With what looked like gargantuan effort, she raised her arm again to run her fingers through his mused up hair.

"Scruffy. Messed up."

"Thanks," he said, somehow unable to muster the smirk that should have accompanied the reply, so that he simply sounded pleased. He dipped his head and placed a long, deep kiss on her mouth, before sliding over her and curling around, tucking his arms into great mounds of duvet cover and folding himself around her. He kissed her neck.

They lay in silence for very long time. Ginny, eventually, drifting into a heavy sleep, pressing backwards into his body and staying there. Draco didn't want to sleep. He was utterly exhausted, of course, but he didn't want to take his eyes off Ginny's red locks, or risk letting go of her warm body in his sleep.

In the end he dropped off, mind stilled by the pattering on the slates above and the sounds of cars hissing down the rain-soaked road.

He dreamt heavily, images of the Devil, of Merlin, of his mother and father, of Sirius Black swirling through his mind in disconnected patterns. Out of the darkness he stumbled, tripping, and landing with hard thud on the stone floor of the Astronomy tower at Hogwarts. Before him, Snape was advancing forwards, brandishing a wand – Draco thought he was going to kill him. Then Snape's hooked nose thinned and melted, and Albus Dumbledore was pointing a wand at him. Dumbledore's mouth opened, and a long, green snake wound it's way out and through the air and around Draco's neck, before letting go a hiss like a punctured tire and stabbing, over and over again, at his chest, until he tumbled head first into the cold, black ground, several hundred feet below. He opened his eyes, and Ginny's face, normally sufficed with bright freckles and pink lips was staring open-eyed at him, her lips blue and her eyes wide and vacant.

Draco sat bolt upright, his chest heaving. He felt cold all over, like he'd been held in a store cupboard with several buckets of dry ice for several hours.

"Draco?"

Ginny was squinting up at him through the darkened room, her eyes very much alive and awake.

"Are you alright?"

He stared at her, hardly daring to believe she was real.

He couldn't answer. Was he alright? He certainly didn't feel it. He hadn't been gripped by such complete and utter terror for a very long time. Ginny sat up, the duvet cover grasped around her.

"Draco? What's wrong?"

He swallowed more than a few times – his mouth had gone mysteriously dry.

"You died," he choked. "You… You were dead."

Ginny sighed, and rested her head on his shoulder. "It was just a dream, Draco. Nothing to worry about. I'm not going anywhere."

Draco nodded, stiffly.

"Go back sleep, Draco," she said soothingly, trying to coax him into laying back down next to her.

"Marry me."

The silence rung through the room, like the atmosphere in a call centre without the people or the phones.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Marry me, Ginny."

She sat up again, and looked at him. "Are you serious?" she said, staring at him. He lifted his eyes.

"Very serious." He kissed her forehead. "I never want to loose you, Ginevra Weasley."

She looked stunned, sitting there with her mouth slightly open and her hair sticking up at all angles. She opened and closed it a few times before she tried to speak, and then got up, rather abruptly, went into the bathroom, and then returned. She knelt down in front of him, and took both his hands in hers.

"No, Draco."

He blinked. "What?"

She shook her head. "I can't marry you."

"W—" he looked around, as if there was so much confusion and so many questions in his head that he hoped the answers would materialise from the darkness. "Why not?"

"Because, Draco. You've only just told me that you love me. I'd like to get used to that, first."

"But you can do that while—"

"Shhh," she murmured, shuffling closer, a slight smile on her lips. "Draco, you had one mildly scary dream where I died, you got spooked about loosing me, and you propose. I don't want you to ask me because you're frightened of loosing me. I'm honestly not going anywhere right now, marriage or not. There's no need for it."

"But you love me," he said quietly. "Why not?"

"Yes, I do love you. But we only just decided to move in together. And today was the first time in your life you've told anyone that you love them. You're feeling vulnerable, so you want to make sure that I'm not going to hurt you by suddenly upping and leaving. But you don't need to get married for that. There's other things we have to get used to before we run off and elope, or something."

Slowly, Draco nodded, but couldn't seem to meet her eye.

She laughed, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him back into the covers. "I'm not saying never," she mumbled sleepily, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arm around his waist. "But definitely not just yet. Who knows, you might have a really disgusting habit that I simply couldn't live with, that I haven't discovered yet."

Despite the embarrassment and coolness in his stomach, Draco laughed, though somewhat half-heartedly.

"I do love you," Ginny said again, slowly, squeezing him. From somewhere deep inside, Draco grinned.

"I know. Sorry. I know I was being… silly."

"Very silly."

"Very, very silly."

Ginny laughed. "We're all fools in love, Draco. Now in the name of Merlin, please go back to sleep."

&

_Ah yes, another entry done and dusted. There's only a couple more clips from the film of Ginny and Draco's life together to show, but do let me know if you have any ideas for any - I'm open to all suggestions._

_Please R & R: As a reward for reviewing, readers will be able to collect one of three hand-painted Dracos: Sexy Draco, who will show you exactly just how secluded that copse can be; Romantic Draco, would wants to ravish you with praise and bow to your body; or Silly Draco, who know's he shouldn't really be asking big questions, but is more than willing to try and convince you to say yes anyway... ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry about the appalling wait – I've been mucho busy lately – it's exam season at college. Anyway, here's a quick interlude. Hope good things come from it._

&

**One Something That I've Really Go to Tell You**

"I've got sand in places I didn't know I had," Draco moaned, dropping onto a checked blanket next to Ginny. She smirked.

"Don't be such a baby, Drac."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "You look good salty and sea-swept…"

And she did too. Her pale skin had affected a golden tint, and the copper-coloured bathing suit she was wearing appeared to have been tailored to fit every gorgeous curve. While Ginny pottered around in a lemon yellow rucksack, Draco watched her, lounging in a secluded part of a little-visited beach.

"Love you," he mumbled.

She looked up, dazed, and then beamed.

"Love you, too," she said brightly, returning to rummaging around in the bag. "Even if you are a soppy git."

Draco waited until she'd zipped the bag up and was in the process of slipping the soft ivy green jumper she'd pulled from it over her head before he pouched, rugby-tackling her over into the sand.

"Draco!"

"Ginny…" he grinned, as she huffed at him, trying to wriggle free. This might not have been the wisest idea, he thought, as she was pinned aggressively beneath him and any move she made was like setting his whole body aflame.

"You do know how to _vex_ me, Malfoy," she growled indignantly, but she was cut off by his mouth, as Draco leaned down and tasted salt and sun cream. Ginny's hands automatically slipped up and palmed his back, sliding smoothly up and down his spine, and coming to rest firmly on his black swimming shorts, pulling him firmly against her.

"Yet," he muttered softly, kissing her briefly, but intently. "You don't… appear… at all irritated…"

She chuckled against his mouth.

"I don't know… that thing you're poking me in the belly with certainly isn't improving my mood…"

"Oh?" he said, pulling away and looking at her indignantly.

"No," she murmured. "It's very frustrating."

He smirked. "Good. Then by the time we get home, you'll be in a thoroughly foul mood."

Ginny's eyes glinted worryingly. He frowned.

"What?"

Biting her lip, she rolled him onto his back, missing the blanket. He felt sharp dune grass slicing into his back, but Ginny's warmth resting snugly over the bulge in his shorts distracted him.

"I'm not having you play me up all the way home," she said resolutely.

Draco moved his hand slowly up her thigh, feeling the tingle that enveloped him. She shifted uncomfortably over him, her eyes very dark in the bright sunlight. "Oh, no?"

Ginny pushed gently forward and ground herself against him, and he tried not to gasp.

"No."

Draco brought his hands up to either side of her head and dragged her down to him, smothering her mouth in hot, languid kisses that made her forget entirely about trying to get the upper hand – as he'd been sure she was trying to do – and crush herself self down onto him.

"Good."

Within a few minutes of Ginny softly worshipping his mouth, she made to roll off him, pulling him with her to cover her body with his. He stopped her, clutching at her thighs and securing her above him. She shot him a weird look tinged with amusement, and ground down again, making him buck against her. She giggled softly.

"What're you laughing at?" he grinned, slipping his thumb underneath the damp, grainy seat of her bikini bottoms and pressing against her mound.

"N-nothing," she gasped. "Apparently…"

"No, no," Draco continued, curling his thumb back and feeling her damp walls tense around him. Ginny's eyes closed, involuntarily, it seemed, and she surged against him, tightening and releasing.

"Out here?" she muttered breathily. "Really? What if someone—"

Draco slid his thumb wetly over her clitoris, and sensed that her resolve was weakening when she shivered violently. He couldn't help but laugh, and watch the curve of her neck as her head fell back, her curtain of russet hair shaking down her back.

"You were saying…?"

Ginny glared at him. "Nothing. Didn't say a w-word…"

Draco felt Ginny wriggling and rubbing against his thumb, moving with increasing desperation. Damp with the yielding moisture from her centre, Draco pulled his thumb from her, and she moaned softly, barely audibly, as though she'd tried not too. Within seconds, she'd tugged his shorts clear from his waist, and he'd wrestled hers away. He clutched at her sides beneath the green jumper she was wearing, which was tickling his belly and the tops of his thighs, and lifted her cleanly onto him. She bit down on her lip hard.

"You know you can scream if you want to, right?" he said cockily, until she moved, and he found it hard to form a clear thought as her own weight drove her down onto him and he was caught in her to the hilt. He wanted to move, to buck. To roll her over and thrust into her without a second's thought. He didn't, but _Merlin_, he wanted to.

The sky was very blue. Azure blue, and warm, and blue. And cut open every time a white seagull drifted over head, flitting over up-currents of still warmer air. Everything smelt very salty.

"You've got sand in your hair," Draco mumbled against Ginny's shoulder.

"Got sand in my everywhere," she replied softly, smiling. She shifted underneath him and he raised his head from her shoulder to kiss her soundly before settling back over her. She sighed. Not her usual, soft, contented kind of a sigh. It was long and drawn-out, and… fretful?

Draco watched her eyes follow the curve of the dune glass swinging around them, and then as she shifted to gaze out towards the wide, open expanse of water. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking. Maybe about how some of the sailing boats out there had sails of a bright, bed-sheet white, while others had sails that were Satsuma orange, others, navy blue. He moved as gently as he could to curl around behind her and watch over her freckled shoulder. His attention fell on her pink skin. Her jumper was long gone.

"You're burning."

"I know." She shuffled onto her back and looked at him, her pupils tiny in the sun.

"Draco, there's something that I've really got to tell you."

He'd been a bit worried when she hadn't seemed bothered about sunburn – she was usually so vigilant. Now he was terrified. He tried not to let it show.

"Hmm?"

She sighed again, almost as if impatient with herself.

"Now, don't freak out."

He gulped. "Could you not think of anything you could say which would be more likely to freak me out, Ginevra? C'mon, Ginny, spit it out."

She blinked up at him, frowning through the sun.

"There's the slightest… there's a small chance…" She clutched his hand suddenly, and he realised that his heart was racing. It was pounding as though he had a marching band running around in his chest, but it was so uneven that he thought maybe they were all amateurs with no sense of rhythm at their very first practice session.

"Gin, whatever it is, it's okay. Really," he assured her – and himself as well – as he squeezed her hand. "Love you, remember?"

"Draco, I think I might be pregnant."

Somewhere in the distance, a seagull squawked loudly, and one of the sailing boats' sails cracked in a breeze.

"Oh."

&

Draco made Ginny cover up, slipping one of his T-shirt's over her head as she watched him intently. She didn't say anything at all, just watched him. He supposed she was trying to make out what he thought of the situation. He took her hand and led her up the beach with their bags, sitting her down in a small wooden café that smelt of hardened layers of paint and of warm, greasy ovens mingled with the outside. He set down two cups of tea, and she couldn't help but laugh.

"Thank you. Now I feel like my mother's here."

Draco smiled, and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Haven't taken a test, if that's what you mean. Been feeling a bit… odd the last few days though. And I… Well I missed a—"

"How long ago?"

"Fortnight, near enough."

He nodded. "Right."

There was no one else the café except the owner, and Draco could faintly detect the scent of tobacco coming from the back entrance, where he was sure the owner had gone for a cigarette. He thought dimly that Ginny's arse was probably sore, sitting on her hard wooden bench. He sat forward, and his plastic garden chair creaked.

"Draco, I'm not asking anything of you," she said quietly. "Even if I am pregnant… And I suppose I might not be… Well, I don't want you to feel like you have to do anything, like you have to stay—"

"What?"

She shrugged. "Well… I just mean, if this is all too fast. If you feel like I'm—"

"Ginny," Draco said quickly, latching onto her hands across the table, and leaning so far over that his collar fell into his mug, "there's no way in this world or the wizarding one that I would ever, _ever_ leave you, all right? Just remember that."

She looked utterly lost.

"Ginny, do you want to go home? We can talk about it there."

Slowly, she nodded. But he thought maybe that she was doing that more for his benefit than for hers. Maybe she thought he needed to be somewhere familiar. Somewhere simple, and warm and cosy. But he'd already half-formed a plan in his head.

&

Ginny opened her eyes, and saw stars. Hundreds upon hundreds of bright, diamond-hard stars, and felt a warm breeze over her face. Had she fallen asleep? It took her a moment to remember that she was meant to be at home by now.

"You're awake."

She sat up gently, and found she was in the back of Draco's convertible under a blanket, his coat rolled under her head.

"Where are we?"

A knowing smile played on the corner of Draco's mouth, but he only held out his hand.

He led her through an area of woodland, between thickets of aromatic foxglove plants and rhododendrons, and under an archway around which a rose bush had curled itself. An intricate iron-sided wooden bridge flowed gently over a steam riddled with floating insects and met the edge of a wide, soft meadow full of long grass and flowers. A squat, white cottage with blue window frames and guttering beneath several disjointed thatched roofs slept soundly in the middle of the field.

"I found this house a long time ago," Draco told her. "It used to have people working for mother living in it, but they left when mum and dad were killed in the Final Battle. I never thought much of it myself: the guttering needs sorting, and I'm pretty sure that there's a ghost in the cellar. And don't even get me started on the gnome infestation. But there's something I've known about this house for as long as I've known I wanted you. This is your house, Ginny. I don't know how I know, but this is your house. It'll never be anyone else's."

Ginny's fingers felt numb.

"And as much as it'll pain me to have to fix the guttering and get in one of your Dumbledore lot to get rid of that ghost, and the fact that I'll have to roll my sleeves up and lob half the country's gnome popular into the woods, I'll do it all Ginny. And I'll do anything, _anything_ else that'll make you happy, and make you feel safe. That includes," he added, grinning at her, "asking you to marry me again, if it turns out that you _are_ pregnant. Despite the mind-numbing fear that you'll say no, again.

"I know you're terrified. I know you feel like you're in the middle of something so unknown, more unknown that anything you've ever had to think about before… But Gin as long as I'm here you're never going to have to deal with it on your own."

Draco had known Ginny for more than three years, and longer, if you counted being enemies. He had never seen her cry before.

They stayed in the cottage that night. Ginny was apparently too tired to do anything but curl up in Draco's lap and slip into a tumultuous sleep, but he himself was wide awake, and playing idly with her neck. He stared for a very long time at her belly, but it didn't look any different. He couldn't remember her holding onto him with quite so much determination as she did that night, and it was a job to pry himself free in the morning and set about making a laborious breakfast of toast and cereal, marmalade, eggs and bacon, sausage, coffee and orange juice. By the time Ginny woke up, showered, changed into one of Draco's clean shirts and a pair of cut-off shorts, she was much more like herself again. He could tell by the fact that her appetite was spectacular.

"First thing's first," she said through a mouthful of toast. "Pregnancy potion."

"I'll do it," Draco replied immediately. "I'm the one who _didn't fail_ potions."

"What… with all that was going on our last year it was a wonder I passed anything," Ginny said defensively. "Professor Snape had it in for me anyway."

"You could have got any one of the teachers to do exactly whatever you wanted them to do and you know it."

Ginny smirked smugly. "Hmph."

"Alright," Draco said after a moment. "After that. What then?"

She shrugged. "Doesn't that depend on the answer?"

Draco nodded half-hearted, and sipped his coffee.

"If it's positive," she said slowly. "I'll need to go to the Burrow. Tell everyone. I have to do it face-to-face. And you'll have to talk to dad."

"Your dad! About what?"

"About how you intend to support his youngest child and only daughter and her illegitimate offspring…"

Draco snorted. "That's rich coming from—"

Ginny scolded him with a fiery look of annoyance.

"You can't say your mother wasn't… productive."

As soon as he'd said it, Draco feared for his life. Ginny glowered at him for a long time before finally shrugging again.

"Man has a point. And anyway," she added, swallowing carefully and looking directly at him. "Our baby wouldn't be illegitimate."

"We're not married."

"Nobody cares about that nowadays. We'd love her… him. That's enough."

"Are you actively seeking out excuses not to marry me?"

&

The potion, they were both appalled to discover, would take twenty-four hours to mature. Draco set up a cauldron in the kitchen and Ginny watched as he intricately assembled the ingredients, adding them precisely into the cauldron and then lowering the fire below it to a soft flicker, enough that the rose pink watery liquid in it bubbles only very slightly. The kitchen with drenched in this pink light, and the bucking flames, and what with heat enveloping the room and the sunlight outside, it was sweltering.

"C'mon," Draco said, swiping a hand over his brow. "I'll show you the roof."

There was a flat, cool terracotta terrace cut into the trace, it turned out, on one of the upper levels. Draco led Ginny by the hand through narrow, white-washed corridors and passageways, and around winding, twisting staircases, breaking trails in the dust. Eventually a glass-panelled door opened out onto a tiled ledge ringed by railings and tiny, pink flowers.

"This house is unreal," Ginny muttered, awed, as she spread herself out in the middle of the roof and shut her eyes against the sun. Draco, hands in his pockets, leant on one of the railings.

"Too unreal?"

Ginny's eye broke open.

"No. I love it. It's perfect."

"It's old."

Ginny chuckled. "It's. Perfect. Stop finding fault." She sighed, heavily. "You know we can't live here?"

Draco swivelled so fast he nearly thought he was going to topple over the railing. "Pardon?"

"I can't accept a house from you. And don't try and argue. You know how stubborn I am, and I've been thinking about it since yesterday. Don't need all this _stuff_ just to know you love me. I know it every time you look at me."

Draco turned slowly, wrapping his fingers around the metal bars. The horizon ran a ring around them, the miles upon miles of lush green woodland, pale cherry blossom, and thick, darker shrub land encircled them. Under the sun a wide river ran, the glare shooting into Draco's eyes. Ginny's tiny hands were round his waist.

"Too many things inside your head, not enough outside of it."

"Take the house," he muttered firmly. Her hands moved further, and she squeezed him tighter.

"You know perfectly well I can't. I've never just been given a house Drac, never just had things handed to me. I don't see why I should start. Just because you've got more money than me, doesn't mean I should."

She saw a muscle in Draco's jaw tighten, and knew he was angry before he'd had the chance to turn again to face her in frustration. She didn't know what she'd said that was so unreasonable.

"Not. About. Money," he ground out. "It's the house. It's _your_ house. It's not mine," he said sharply, gesturing madly around him. "Without you this place is nothing to me. This house _is_ you." More aggressively than he'd intended, he grabbed her hand. "I'll show you."

Again he led her, but only until the next floor down, when he released her and told her to look. Frowning, he stalked down up the stairs, leaving Ginny feeling numb.

She hadn't seen Draco that frustrated with her before. Perhaps she should listen. Humour him if nothing else. Her mind kept dragging her back to the child that may or may not be inside her, tiny and defenceless and barely formed. If she really was pregnant, did she think she could live in that tiny flat forever?

Ginny found herself in the bedroom. A wide, bright room, with soft curtains that bellowed in the breeze and made her think of the Burrow. The floorboards were warm under her bare soles, smooth from time. They creaked comfortably as she roamed into the bathroom, felt the towels wandered out again and explored the top floor, then the one below, the one under that, the kitchen, the pantry, the cellar…

When she allowed herself to relax, she felt warm inside and out. Her toes knew the reaction of the floorboards before she trod them, the smell of a room before she entered it, and each scent did different things to her. The kitchen smelt of family, of old age, of the potion which was permeating the room, and it made her feel sleepy.

The pantry smelt of yeast and salt, of sex and wine. The cellar felt damp on her skin, and cool, and she had to run from it, but a faint essence of fear made her heart pound. There was study – old books and learning saturated the room, and the bedroom made her think of Draco, reading a newspaper and drinking tea.

&

_Comments, as always, more than gratefully received._


	5. Chapter 5

**One Letter**

Timidly, Draco knocked on the door to the master bedroom. He hadn't dared show his face in there the night before, and had stayed in one of the guest rooms. He hadn't slept a remarkable amount, mainly because he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept without Ginny in the same bed.

"Come in, Draco, it's open."

He stepped inside. Ginny was seated under the window, writing a letter with a ball point pen.

"It was open last night as well," she added, glancing at him. "Why didn't you come to bed?"

"Didn't want to crowd you," he shrugged, not with iciness, but with calm honesty.

She nodded, and gave him a smile. He returned it softly.

"Let me finish writing this, and then we'll have a talk, Draco." He nodded. What else could he do?

She didn't take long to finish, but as she turned it over in the light to fold and address it, he saw it was rather lengthy already. She must have been up for a while, writing. She sealed it tightly with wax, which was strange when she threw the ball point pen down next to the seal and extinguished the candle. She turned around in the chair, and immediately he found himself crossing the room in several long strides and bending to kiss her soundly on her surprised mouth.

"I love you," he murmured, and she grinned.

"I could stand to hear that more often," she teased, but after only a few seconds her smile fell, and she looked at where their hands were joined on her lap. Draco knelt before her.

"Sorry," she said, when he opened his mouth, "but are you about to ask, again?"

He cocked his head to one side and grinned. "Yeah. Will do until you say yes, you know. You're not getting rid of me."

Even though she beamed at that, there was something about her body language which told him it would be another 'No', this time. He shrugged as she ran her fingers through his inconceivably soft blonde hair. She swallowed, and hugged him.

"Draco, can you ask me again tonight?"

He blinked. "Why?"

"I've got to deliver this," she said, waving the letter at him. "Then… well, then, you should ask me again."

He couldn't help but grin, so much that his cheeks hurt. The thought that she actually meant that she'd say yes was a thought so completely joyous that he almost felt drunk.

"I absolutely will." He laughed, "And then you can take that bloody potion."

"Yeah. It's going to be one hell of a day," she smiled. Draco nodded furiously, before leaping up out of his kneel to hug Ginny so tightly that he pulled her clean out of her chair – which fell over with a loud clatter – and off her feet. Instinctively her legs wrapped themselves around his waist and he landed her on her bed in a red-haired, freckle-skinned muddle. He felt a corner of Ginny's letter poking him in the ear.

"What does it say, anyway?"

She shook her head. "Not telling," she replied, coyly, a delicious smile curving her pink mouth.

"Will you ever tell me?"

"Nope," she replied softly, still beaming. Before he could lodge any formal complaint, she kissed him lightly. It was only the prelude to something a lot longer, a lot slower, a lot deeper, a lot hotter than Draco had felt for years, and he was torn between mingled thoughts of how fantastically arousing it was, blind worry about it ever ending, and the actual sensation of the whole thing. His fingers strayed blindly over her collar, her sides, her belly, and with a hot rush of adrenaline he wondered if there really was another life in there, growing. He wondered if he left his fingers there long enough, would he sense it, feel it move.

"Anything?" Ginny murmured jokingly.

"Nothing that I can see…"

She kissed his shoulder – which seemed to have come free of his collar. "It won't show for weeks," she explained, with an insane grin on her face.

"I know… It's just…"

She silenced him with her mouth, trying to show him by the desperate need there that she understood.

Draco fixed her with a stern smile, and took her letter sharply from her fingers and rested it on the bedside table. Calmly he pulled her up by her wrists and sat her in his lap, her arms and legs wound tightly around him, her stomach flat against his, as though she thought the two of them sinking into each other and being one entity was the most attractive idea in the world to her. It made him feel like if he tried hard enough, he could fly.

It only registered as perhaps a bit unusual many hours later. All Draco could think about was the acres of soft, golden skin that stretched out beneath his eager palms, and the way Ginny was cradled in his lap, unable to take her mouth from his shoulder as he lifted her onto him. He felt her gasp and splutter onto his skin, unused to the angle, then the bemused giggle she let out minutes later having adjusted. The two of them, upright and entwined, pulling at each other's flesh, middle of the bed, middle of the room, middle of a thick square of morning light, an unusual rocking motion, a stream of dampness down Ginny's back where her softly waved hair stuck and clung to her skin as he clung to her…

"Before you go, you've got help me finished off the potion," he croaked, voice hoarse, as he pulled on his trousers and swept his hand across Ginny's bare shoulders, through her hair. "By the time you get back, it should be finished."

&

Harry Potter emerged from the shower, securing a towel around his waist and hurrying for the door. Someone on the other side was sounding rather frantic.

"Hi, Harry."

"Ginny?"

&

His mother had loved the sound of birds in the warm evening air as well, and as he tended the fire beneath the rapidly readying potion he could only think about her. He wondered if she'd have liked Ginny, and if Ginny would have liked her. He didn't understand anyone could dislike Ginny.

The sun was setting, throwing amber light through the cottage. Draco retreated to the bedroom, and straightened the bedcovers, and moved to draw the curtains. He stopped.

Printed neatly into the blotting paper on the writing desk and thrown into sharp relief by the angle of the golden light streaming in through the window was an exact, invisible imprint of Ginny's letter.

_Dear Harry,_ Draco read, before he could stop himself. Cold, paralyzing fear gripped him, and made him feel like he'd been plunged into a vat of water straight from the North Pole. _Potter_.

He shouldn't read it. If it had been any other name staring benignly up at him from the blank sheet of blotting paper, he wouldn't have. But it was _Potter_.

_I got your letter. You must know what I thought. How long did I wait for you to say this to me? Years, Harry, years. And now you say it? Finally? When I'm happier than I've ever been? How can you expect me to choose you?_

_Draco would skin you alive if he knew you'd written to me. You don't think he's safe. You don't think he's deserving. You don't understand why my family trust him._

_Neither do I._

_Harry, I love you. Always have. Probably always will—_

The piece of blotting paper ended. She'd finished the letter on the completely unaltered table, and the thought made his throat tighten. He swallowed, and it felt like there were beads running down his throat. Blood pounded stupidly in his head, in his ears. He knew he was over-reacting. Knew it perfectly well. Knew it with every cell in his brain. Unfortunately, that feeling in his stomach a lot like the one he normally got before he threw up was a good deal stronger, and all it was doing was repeating, 'Harry, I love you', 'Harry, _I love you_', over and over again, tauntingly, like they'd been gouged into the inside of his skull with a compass.

If she'd written with her favourite seagull tail feather quill and a bottle of ink instead of with her stupid Muggle ball point, he'd never had read the rapidly fading imprint, and he'd never have felt the need to slip his wand into his inside pocket, grab a coat, and Apparate from the cottage with heinous intentions circling his mind like vultures. But as he stormed through the kitchen, something caught his attention. The potion had changed from a cool grey-blue to a bright, sunlit-gold.

&

Ginny thought perhaps that her heart was breaking very gently into two pieces. And it itched.

Harry's emerald green eyes were glistening with tears, and she hated herself for causing them.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

He stood up abruptly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose, blinking tears away, waving her off. Her letter sat open on the coffee table.

"If you'd said it… if you'd tried earlier, Harry, but—"

"I know…" he ground out.

"You had a chance… M-more than once…" she stammered.

"I_know_, Ginny. You don't need to keep reminding me."

She sighed. "Why now?" she muttered quietly. "What made you realise this now?"

He shook his head miserably. "I don't know." Growling angrily at the dampness on his face, Harry swiped at his eyes. "It took me so long to notice you, Gin, and when I did…"

"When you did you told me we couldn't be together because of Voldemort."

"And I was right, wasn't I?" he snapped. "You would've got yourself killed. You're still here, and so am I."

"You think I'm an idiot. I wouldn't have put myself in that much danger _for__you_: we were all in danger from the second that war began anyway. The fact that I loved you was beside the point." Harry made a strangled coughing noise, and glared at her.

"Don't look at me like that. You didn't come back to me after the war, did you? No, you were too busy with the Order, then the Ministry, then Ron, and Hermione, and all your _fans_. You forgot I was even there. You didn't even notice it was me who found out Draco was good."

"I don't think 'good' is the right phrase…"

"Well he isn't bad, is he?"

Harry sniffed. "No."

She stared at him for a moment, before she remembered what she'd been trying to say. "Was it because it was Draco?" she said.

"What?"

"Is that why you had to say it now? If it'd been anyone else, you wouldn't have bothered, but it was Draco. You just can't accept Draco can do something better than you, can you? Like make me happy? And you lied to me! For years I thought you were okay with it, and then you sent that letter—"

"You thought I trusted him? I hate him Ginny, I always have!"

"I know, but after he helped kill Vol—"

"He did _not_ help—"

"Yes, he bloody well did, Harry!" Ginny spat. "More than you care to admit, but you'd never have known where the bastard was to kill him if it wasn't for Draco Malfoy! And then that spell…" She panted, calming. She didn't need to go over the details again; everyone knew them well enough.

"You stood upstairs with me at my brother's wedding, at your best friends'… And you told me you didn't care, that if he made me happy…"

Harry shrugged. "I thought you'd get over it. I didn't think it would last, and if I put up a fight you'd only have hated me more."

"So this was your last ditch attempt was it?" Ginny half-shouted. She ran a hand through her hair. "Harry, I love Draco. There's nothing you can do about it." She drew in a shuddering breath, and pulled Harry round by the shoulder to face her. He tried to look away to hide the tears still seeping down his face, but he couldn't, so he just stared at her, frowning harder than she'd ever seen him do before, willing them to stop. "We're getting married."

If Ginny wasn't sure what a man's heart being squeezed so tight it nearly burst looked like, she thought the look in Harry's eyes probably covered it.

"What?"

This was possibly not the best time for Draco to kick the door in.

She whirled around. Draco strode down the hallway, the tail on his coat swinging around behind him, and lent nonchalantly against the doorframe. For all her life Ginny thought she'd slipped back ten years, and was right back in Hogwarts again, with Draco thinking her the lowest of every wizard alive.

She swallowed, nervous. She hadn't done anything wrong. But she was aware that sneaking away and writing secret letters and looking quite so surprised when he turned up might be misconstrued.

"Draco."

For a moment, he looked like a stranger to her. She crossed the room to him, stood before him, as open and even and determined as she could be, and then she saw it. Saw a glimmer of furious love in his eyes.

"Before anything gets out of hand," Ginny said softly, "there's no need for anger, Draco."

"Gin…" Draco muttered.

Ginny peered closely into Draco's face. She'd been afraid that he'd jumped to the wrong conclusions. That he was doubting himself, and her, all over again.

"Draco?"

"You're pregnant, Ginny."

"I'm— I'm pregnant? I really am?" Ginny almost couldn't believe it. She'd waited… she'd thought, but she hadn't believed that—

"P-pregnant?"

A tiny, strangled word had come from Harry. Ginny felt cruel and cold for making him feel so much pain, and even worse because she felt so deliriously happy. She looked at Harry for a very long time.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered. "But I can't give you the attention you need, the adulation. I've got to think about Draco. I've got think about my family."

&

_It's been a long time, and I'm sorry to those who had given up hope. But I never promised promptness!_


	6. Chapter 6

**One Afternoon**

Derram House's garden was enormous. Enormous and wildly un-tamed, over-grown, and full to bursting – not with Gnomes – but with bees, bugs, rabbits and occasionally the odd deer. Its meadow-like lawn had reached knee-height, and it was in this that Ginny was currently sprawled, propped up on a bundle of blankets, warmed by the mid-afternoon sun.

She peered down to her chest, where a tiny weight wrapped in a white towelling all-in-one was gurgling, tiny arms fumbling against her shirt, blonde hair sticking up at an angle.

"Ginny, what're you doing? I told you not to bring her out here, she'll freeze..."

Smiling, Ginny tipped her head back, and saw Draco cutting a swath through the grass, frowning.

"Drac, it's July."

"But she's three weeks old. Anything could happen! The bees—"

"The bees are more interested in the flowers, Draco. Come sit down here. Don't argue."

Huffily, Draco dropped down next to her. "I still don't think—"

Ginny laughed, watching the baby look at Draco. "Here, Draco, hold your daughter."

Gently she sat up, and passed her to Draco. He didn't take his eyes off her for a moment. Ginny ruffled Draco's hair.

"You worry too much."

"I know," he said, as the baby stretched. He looked up. "Good job I've got you here then, otherwise I'd never let her see anything. She'd be tucked up indoors, safe and sound..."

"She _is_ safe, Draco." She leaned across and kissed him softly. "Like I'd ever let anything happen to her."

He nodded, his eyes falling again to the baby's tiny hand, grasping Daddy's finger. Ginny couldn't quite describe the sheer volume of love and pride and delirious happiness inside her. She knew that if she tried to voice it, there'd be no way she could articulate it properly. She'd have to settle for watching Draco and his baby staring at each other, with their identical hair, and their identical expressions of wonder.

"I think Mummy's tired," Draco said to the baby.

"I think Mummy's _fine_," she said firmly, beaming. Draco gave her a significant look.

"You've been up since five," he said, truthfully. "Go get some sleep. I can handle this little one."

She shook her head. "As soon as I leave, she'll be back indoors."

"And out of harm's way," Draco said, but there was amusement dripping from his words like treacle. "I'm serious," he added. "You go. We're fine, Mum."

"I'm serious too," she murmured, watching them both. She settled down on the blanket again and Draco laid the baby between them, while it spluttered and gurgled.

"I never imagined this," Draco whispered, lying opposite Ginny. "I never thought that this could happen to me. A normal life. No Deatheaters, no dedication to the Dark Lord, no evil. I've got the most saintly, beautiful, courageous family, and they're all mine. And I'll protect you," he breathed, the scent of the top of the baby's head in his nose and in his brain and in his heart. "I'll protect you with every last breath inside me, Gin. Gin?"

She was asleep. And he was almost glad she was, so she didn't have to listen to him going on like a big over-emotional Gryffindor.

Ginny, of course, had heard every word.

Finis.

&

_And that's that._


End file.
